


Looking Directly Ahead

by assignedswordatbirth



Series: Hunt/Slaughter Martin [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Canon Asexual Character, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Jonny Sims Style Ending, M/M, No beta we die like archival assistants, Slaughter or Hunt Martin Blackwood, again im sorry, spoilers up to mag:178, though that is neither mentioned or relevant, you have no proof that this isnt canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assignedswordatbirth/pseuds/assignedswordatbirth
Summary: "You said you could control it now.""I can, I, I just – it – You’re absolutely right. I will refrain from Knowing anything about you.""Thank you.""Unless you’re in danger.""Physical danger; If I’m in danger of being mad at you or something –""I-""-you’ve got to figure it out the old-fashioned way.""Fine. Agreed."
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Hunt/Slaughter Martin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943197
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	Looking Directly Ahead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SD_oil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SD_oil/gifts).



> This can be read before or after 'Look Away' but they should probably be read together for maximum impact

Something’s changed.

When Martin looks at him, his eyes are cold. He’s not sure if that’s new or not, whether before he was watching through rose-tinted glasses, gaze coloured by affection and love and hope.  He’s not sure when the cold started. During their travels? In the lonely? The lingering effects of that painful, empty cold? Perhaps even before. He ignores it. It doesn’t matter, when he loves Martin more than anything.

Martin loves him back, and he knows this. Knows this from the soft smiles, the quiet comments, the willingness to do anything. He doesn’t need his powers to see the affection written over Martin’s face whenever he catches his eye. Since Georgie, he has never felt so loved. 

Martin knows he loves him, and that’s what matters, he tells himself, as he watches his humanity slip away, piece by piece, and tries to hide it. It doesn’t matter if he’s not human. Not if he has Martin, holding his hand, supporting him as he  _ smites  _ people, hates himself for it, even as the beholding in him smiles. They’re not humans, perhaps, but nor is he, and he can’t help but wonder if he should be put down too. 

He holds Martin, at every opportunity he can. Martin is warm, and solid, and so, so human.

They look for Daisy, and Daisy is a murderer, so it’s okay. A murderer like him, living in the world of fear he created, as he destroys avatars like them for something his own fault. They didn’t deserve to die. 

He tells them Daisy is happy, and watches Martin smile and Basira sigh. They’d have to kill her either way, he knows this, but at least this way - this way it’ll hurt less. They trust him, trust him to tell the truth, and in a way, he is. She feels a primal joy and a primal fear and a primal regret and he pins his focus on the former. He ignores the nagging fear that maybe, just maybe- 

No. He can’t think like that. If Daisy’s alive he can’t protect Martin. Daisy is hurting people, is one of them. He cannot ignore the fact that so is he. 

Martin is distant, introspective, and he cannot help but feel concern. 

“Are you alright, Martin? You’re rather quiet”

Martin nods but doesn’t respond. He’s not lonely anymore, and he wants to know how. Wants to know what’s replaced it. He doesn’t look. 

They stop in domain after domain after domain and Martin still seems human. He gives statements and avoids smiting and pretends he doesn’t feel his humanity slipping away with every step he takes. There’s still some of him left. There has to be. He tries not to use his powers, beyond what will keep him alive. 

He pretends he doesn’t see himself in every entity, doesn’t feel the scars and marks  _ yearn _ for each domain. It hurts, being there. It hurts to know it’s his fault, and it hurts to know that some small part of him is at home in every domain. He could feel the whole world, but he refuses to do that. 

He could feel the whole world, and sometimes he wants to look, wants to look for what makes Martin’s eyes go steely when he looks at him sometimes, what it is that saps away the warmth. 

They find Daisy, and it  _ hurts _ . There’s not much left of her, but there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes. He was expecting a monster.

He stares at her. She is like him, just a little further along, and for once, he is terrified. He grips his arms, jaw tense, and resolves to try and help her. If she can be brought back then so can he, and somehow he Knows he could try. Knows there is hope, though not much of it. 

Basira hesitates. He opens his mouth to stop her entirely. To save Daisy, before it’s too late-

Martin doesn’t. 

Jon looks at the lifeless body and freezes, as red billows from stab wounds, seeping into the ground, the clothes. Basira lets out a sob and he suppresses the same.

This was Daisy, with her sharp, brilliant grin and wolf like eyes. This isn’t Daisy anymore, just a limp body with too-many stab wounds and empty eyes. 

Martin pulls him into a hug and he tenses. This was Martin,  _ his  _ Martin. He had told him she was  _ happy  _ there, had ignored the lingering self loathing and guilt that he, too, felt. He pretends it’s shock. He isn’t afraid of Martin. 

Martin thinks he isn’t a monster. Thinks a monster wouldn’t smile at him or hold him or laugh at his jokes. He pretends to agree, pretends the little human things he still does, he has left, mean something. Pretends he cannot be both, can’t be somewhere in between. 

He knows Martin isn’t a monster. Knows that if he were, he would Know, and if he isn’t and still loves him that means there's something left. Means he’s redeemable. 

He didn’t think Basira was, until she’s lunging at Martin, and he is panicking, his voice catching in his throat the first time he tries, until the beholding fills his throat as he speaks. 

Martin gets there first, knife embedding in Basira’s gut.

He doesn’t think about it too much, pulling Martin into his arms, apologising on repeat for being too slow, checking him over and over for injuries.

“I was so worried” he repeats, over, and over, and over, voice muffled by Martin’s chest, and wonders absently how his heartbeat is so calm, so still, so steadying.

He thought Basira was human. He didn’t Know. He watches Martin, as they walk, them against the world, and he resists the temptation to look. He looks directly ahead, even as his eyes are turned towards Martin. He trusts him. He needs to, needs to ignore the beholding’s urge to Know. 

Martin smiles at him, avoids listening to the statements, mothers him. He hasn’t changed. He hasn’t.

He ignores how Martin smiles more now Basira is gone, how he sometimes walks faster, walks ahead. It won’t matter, soon, he tells himself. They just need to reach the Panopticon. Reach Elias. Reach the end. 

Martin is still human, so he listens to him. He smites when Martin tells him to, leaves it when he doesn’t. He can protect Martin, can cling onto his lingering humanity. Martin knows what to do, knows in a way completely unclouded by Knowing. He ignores the lingering doubts the beholding feeds into his brain. The eye wants him to be alone, wants him to submit completely. It is Martin who keeps him grounded, keeps his last bits of humanity, and it is Martin the eye wants gone. He won't let that happen. 

He grips his hand as they enter the panopticon. As they face Jonah. This will likely be the end of him, the last time he ever sees Martin, and he is going to treasure it. He just hopes he doesn’t bring Martin down with him. He cradles his face as he kisses him goodbye, trying to show Martin just how much he is loved. 

Martin stabs him, takes out his eyes and Jon nearly retches, but Martin just stares, impassive, as the man who was once Jonah Magnus and now, and a long, long time before that, Elias Bouchard, dies. 

He destroys the eyes and nearly cries, from relief and horror and guilt, and they are still alive, though he’s not sure he wants to be. Martin kisses him again, all crushing lips and scraping teeth and fierce desperation, and for a moment Jon feels human. 

Something has changed, but the world is still ending. 

Jon knows, now. Knows that to fix this he must die. He knows this and he is ready, ready and prepared and willing. Martin tells him to stop and his eyes are panicked, not cold, so he agrees. 

They won’t find another solution. 

Jon Knows this, but he agrees, reluctantly, because Martin is pleading and breaking and he loves him. 

He didn’t want Martin to break, so he shatters himself instead. Martin is smiling more and more and Jon knows something is wrong because the Martin he knows, he  _ knew,  _ wouldn’t let himself be happy when people were suffering. When Jon is suffering. 

_ (He’s just overthinking, Martin will understand) _

“Martin-”

_ (They need to fix this, Martin has never let others suffer) _

“No, Jon. I won’t hurt you. We will find a way”

_ (Martin has always been willing to make sacrifices. He should be willing to make this one) _

“But-” 

_ (He can convince him, he needs to convince him) _

“No.”

_ (He doesn’t convince him) _

He knows there's something wrong and he needs to know what and it’s not the beholding this time, it’s him. He is worried and he is scared and for a moment he feels completely human. Completely human and completely out of his depth. 

_ (He tries again, one last time) _

“Martin, you need to let this go”

_ (He knows it’s futile. Knows what he has to do) _

“I love you”

_ (He can’t respond, the guilt is too much) _

“I know” 

_ (He looks.) _

Martin is a predator, is pinned on hunting down, on destruction. Jon is pack but for how long, until what point. He should’ve known, should’ve seen, should’ve looked before this point because he knows it’s too late.

_ (He’d already been prepared to die) _

“Martin, I-”

_ (This just makes it easier) _

“I’m not going to kill you, Jon. It’s- there’s another way. There has to be.”

_ (He could save the world. It’s not certain but it’s a chance) _

“You don’t care if that’s true, Martin. You would put me above the rest of the world and I can’t let you do that”

_ (And he knows. He Knows he could save Martin) _

“That’s not true-”

_ (He just has to-) _

“Martin. I understand, but”

_ (Break him) _

“You’re wrong-”

_ (Betray him) _

Jon is breaking, moment by moment and he knows. He  _ knows _ the beholding doesn’t have him. Not anymore. Not completely. He is Martin’s. Martin’s above anything. 

_ (Tell him) _

“Martin, I’m sorry. I looked.”

_ (Lose him) _

Martin’s eyes are cold and Jon knows he’s gone, but he has to try, has to  _ try.  _ There's a chance, a chance he can bring him back. 

_ (He knows how) _

“I told you - unless you’re in danger, and you were. You’re not-you’re not you anymore, Martin, but we can fix this, we can-”

_ (He Knows how) _

Martin is standing there, watching him, and Jon knows he’s sizing him up. Debating his odds. He knows it won’t make a difference.

Jon had watched Daisy and seen hope for himself. Now he watches Martin and knows he’d been right. Knows there's a chance. Knows for Daisy, it would never have been an option.

He wouldn’t have let Basira die. Not even to bring back his friend. Himself, on the other hand? His life is worth a lot less. Finally, they can end the apocalypse, Martin just has to-

Martin will.

Martin does. 

Martin lunges and Jon doesn’t move. He stands there, holds his ground even as his eyes grow wet. He hadn’t let himself cry in a while, not since he wiped away tears that stained his hands black. Now, he cries clear. 

Martin pins him to the ground, and his face no longer looks like his own. His eyes are cold, his face twisted in rage. Jon wanted the last thing he saw to be Martin, but not like this. 

Martin punches him, over and over until Jon’s whole body hurts, and he can’t help himself, he begs. Martin ignores his pleas and Jon is glad of it. He needs to die, he knows this, but it  _ hurts.  _

_ (It hurts, and the panic kicks in, and where he wanted to die peacefully, to ease Martin’s guilt, he begs) _

“Martin, please. Please, it’s me. I’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry. Martin, look at me. Martin, please. It’s me, it’s Jon. I love you. Martin, I love you. Your name is Martin Blackwood and you- and you are loved. Martin don’t do this. Marti-”

_ (If Martin realises - If Martin just  _ sees _ him. If he can just see Martin’s eyes, warm and loving, one more time before he dies.) _

“Monster” He knows Martin’s right, but for the first time since the safehouse, Jon feels human. 

_ (He’s going to die. Nothing left to save him. He just wants to be seen) _

“Martin, it’s me, it’s me, look at me. Martin look at me, it’s Jon, it’s me. Martin, look at me. Look at me look at me look at me . Please. Martin, Martin, recognise me. Martin -” 

_ (He can barely see, can barely breathe, can barely speak) _

Martin’s fist catches his throat and all he can do is gasp. Death needs to come soon, it’d be a mercy. 

A punch to the side of his head, and he cannot see. Again and again and again until Jon can’t feel them anymore, until there is no pain, only loud thuds and the swimming blackness that pulls him further and further in. He knows, now, that the apocalypse won’t end. 

Something has changed. 

It isn’t enough.

The archivist lies limp on the ground. 

Jon is dead. 

**Author's Note:**

> technically jon broke his promise :)))))


End file.
